


Here Comes Trouble

by froggy (therealfroggy)



Series: Striptease II [1]
Category: Prison Break
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 13:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therealfroggy/pseuds/froggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First instalment in the <em>Striptease II</em> series. LJ comes to find his dad, yay! Except his dad kind of lives in a den of iniquity now. So that's awkward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here Comes Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> Be warned: this series will eventually include even more porn than the first Striptease series, and also, LJ will be in on it. But, y'know, if that doesn't bother you, welcome :)

“Dad! Uncle Mike!”

“Thank God, LJ!”

LJ let his father pull him into a crushing embrace, offering his own after it. When Michael stepped up and put a hand on his brother's shoulder, LJ detached his arm just enough to yank his uncle into the hug, too.

“You're safe,” Lincoln muttered, holding LJ at arms length for a second to look at him before hugging him again. “You're alive and safe.”

“Dad,” LJ laughed, “It's okay, you can let go of me now.”

Grinning, Lincoln let go of his son and straightened up. “Are you hungry? Sucre's cooking today.”

“Sure,” LJ said, hoisting his backpack further up on his shoulder, “Who's Sucre?”

Taking his backpack from him, Michael explained, “Sucre's my cell mate. Well, he was, in Fox River. He's a good guy. You'll get along.”

Following his father and his uncle away from the dusty dirt road, LJ told them about everything that had happened; from receiving Lincoln's phone call to getting off the bus and seeing them. He told them Veronica had wanted to come, but she couldn't. She was hiding from the FBI, the Company, the local police, and some other organizations LJ didn't remember the name of.

“She's in Eastern Europe somewhere,” he told his father, “but she says she's coming home when the time is right.”

At the mention of Veronica, a weird smile spread slowly over Michael's face. LJ wondered but didn't ask; he figured there was time for that later.

***

“Hey Sucre. Where are the others?”

“C-Note just went into the forest, he's getting more firewood. I don't even wanna think about where Abruzzi and Ass Man are -”

“Sucre,” Michael interrupted, looking somewhat embarrassed. “This is LJ, Linc's son.”

LJ stepped forward, offering a hand. “Nice to meet you.” _Michael's cell mate, huh?_

The Hispanic took LJ's hand and shook it. “Fernando Sucre. I'm cooking today. You like _chilli con carne_?”

LJ smiled. “Sure.” To eat with his dad and his uncle, without having to worry about death or cops or conspiracies, he'd eat maggots. Chilli con carne sounded perfect.

“Hey man, I told you to stay away from me when you -”

“Ain't our fault you just had to come a-trippin' right into us when we were _fraternizin'_ , eight ball.”

“Guys!” Michael said, clearing his throat just a little too loudly. “We've got company.”

LJ subconsciously moved half a step closer to his father. Three new guys, one of them looking very angry and another very smug, were gathering around the fire on which Michael's cellie was cooking.

“This is LJ,” Lincoln stated, his hand resting on his son's shoulder. There was a warning tone in his voice, and LJ wasn't sure if he wanted to know why. “He's my son.”

One of the newly appeared men, not much taller than LJ but with a stance that suggested great confidence in himself, sauntered towards the two Burrows'. “Is he, now?”

LJ suddenly noticed his dad was breathing somewhat irregularly and that the hand on his shoulder was tightening its grip.

“Lay off, perv,” Lincoln snarled at the man. “Don't even think about it!”

“Dad?” LJ looked at his father, then at his uncle. “Uncle Mike?”

“Easy now, Caveman,” the man said, licking his lower lip in what could only be described as a suggestive manner. “I was only plannin' on introducin' myself; there ain't no reason to get rude.”

“LJ, this is Theodore Bagwell,” Michael said, stepping up to LJ's other side. “T-Bag.”

“T-Bag?” LJ cocked his head to one side, suddenly curious. “You're the one they talk about on the news all the time.” His smile faltered a bit. “The one they warn people about.”

The man smiled. “See, I knew I was gonna be famous some day. Why don't you sit down, kid? Dinner's comin' up, eh, _señorita_?” The last part directed at Sucre.

“Yeah, and you're not eating,” Sucre snapped, giving the food a somewhat violent stir.

“Now that you've met Sergeant Sodomy,” Michael said, smirking at T-Bag, “that's John Abruzzi and that's Benjamin Franklin. Er, C-Note.”

LJ shook C-Note's hand and nodded at Abruzzi, who nodded in turn. Frankly, the mobster (hey, he did watch the news) seemed a bit intimidating to LJ. More so than the other men. Could be because he was taller than all the others. Or because he was the one person, as they started eating, who didn't say a word.

Or it could be because apart from T-Bag, he was the only guy there LJ couldn't decide if he liked or not.

***

As the fire slowly died out sometime around midnight, LJ yawned and stretched. Michael nudged Lincoln, who was staring contentedly into the glowing embers, and got up.

“You're sleeping in our tent,” Lincoln said. “Come on, I'll show you.”

LJ got up and followed his father. As he unrolled his sleeping bag, he noticed the inside of the tent. It was clearly a two-man tent, but from how close the two sleeping bags already present were lying, you'd think there was barely enough room for one.

“Dad, you sure there's room for me in here?” LJ asked, making his bed between the two already there.

“Not technically,” Lincoln said, brow furrowing, “We'll have to get another tent. But it'll do just fine for a few nights.”

A noise behind him made LJ turn around, but the only thing he saw was a slight movement inside the closest tent, so he turned back to his father, who – surprisingly – was blushing. The pale light of the waxing moon made the blush even darker.

LJ had never seen his father blush before.

“Dad, what's wrong? When I mention Veronica, uncle Mike looks like he's about to laugh, and you look like a five-year old with his hand caught in the cookie jar every other second. Something's going on.”

Lincoln sighed, then started pulling his shirt off. “It's complicated. Can I explain it tomorrow? Right now I just want to get some sleep.”

LJ shrugged and kicked off his shoes. Sleep did seem awfully tempting right now.

Michael joined them after a few minutes, and LJ settled into his sleeping bag, trying to wipe his mind blank enough to sleep.

A muffled moan, then the unmistakable sound of nails clawing at tent fabric.

“Shh, we don't wanna disturb the happy family reunion, now do we?” The Southern accent was quivering, tight, almost choked up.

Lincoln, one hand covering his eyes, exhaled heavily through his nose. “Shut the fuck up!” he called, “There's a kid here!”

LJ turned to his side and found Michael, giggling hysterically into his sleeping bag.

“Jesus,” Lincoln grumbled. “LJ, you shouldn't have heard that.”

LJ blinked, then turned onto his stomach. He hadn't gone camping with his father since he was ten or something, and now here he was, in the middle of nowhere and surrounded by men he didn't know, but who seemed to be making the most of life on the run. In every way.

_This should be interesting._

“Good night, dad. 'Night, uncle Mike.”

“Oh fuck!”

“Shut up, T-Bag! Night, LJ.”

Michael was still giggling when LJ drifted off to sleep.


End file.
